Damnation
by Krys Bear
Summary: Utena has kept her promise and become a Prince...now the burden of Dios rests on her shoulders. *I COME BEARING GIFTS! A new chapter and updated authors notes.*
1. Prologue

The girl...slept.   
  
  
She embodied every angry, filthy sin humanity had to offer. Every dirty little lie, every petty theft, every bloodstained secret. Hate and rage ran through her bloodstream, slowly making its way throughout her entire being.   
  
And still, she slept.  
  
One by one the swords had slid into her, their bloodlust left unsated even when they'd destroyed every scrap of flesh and bone the girl's lean frame had to offer. Even when what little remained of her was maimed and scattered to the point of oblivion, it was not enough.   
  
It would never be enough.  
  
The whirring started once more, and the tainted blades gathered high into the air. The bells began to ring, one after another, each sending a shower of rubble and stained glass as they lifted and spoke their toll. The duel called Revolution was over, and the hallowed gate had been opened. The witch had been unbound...and the kingdom had fallen.   
  
The castle that had once hung in the sky no longer existed. It had been drunk up by the deep blue hue that suspended it for so long.   
  
And still, the bells rang.   
  
After a time--perhaps it was a day, perhaps it was an hour; the death of the old had finally passed, and the mourning for a world that would never be the same again had been sung by all that remained of the fairy tale kingdom.   
  
Though no one ever felt it, the earth stopped entirely throughout that time. In the east, the sun never rose that day. In the west, the sun never set.   
  
For with the conclusion of death with an old, comes the rebirth and promise of a new. As the girl had been rendered to warm crimson dust, so too, did the world bleed as its current Fate was killed. What was meant to be...became obscure, and would remain so until the Inheritors were finally decided.   
  
Would it be the swords and their vile wrath which inherited humanity's destiny? Twisted its last Prince?  
  
Or would she be able to snap every twisted blade within herself before they turned her noble heart into one of a devil?   
  
In the end, there would be a heaven--or a hell.   
  
The bells stopped ringing, and the swords lay still in the clouds. The magic that had created the kingdom swallowed it back up again, till there was nothing left but a field of green in a forbidden forest. Not a single glass shard sparkled with dew, no marble dusted the grass.   
  
But among this material nothingness...a figure lay. A figure clad in white, with a cape of red regally clasped to its shoulders. Locks of pink falling clumsily over a peaceful brow. In this figure's hand rested a sword, bearing a crest that time had long forgotten.   
  
This figure had once been a girl who willed a dying body to move just long enough to keep her promise. That body had indeed perished, through not the blade of the one she loved, but the endless blades of those who felt no love.   
  
They obliterated the old, and there, in the grass that held no magic, the new was born.  
  
Her new body would hold immortality, for it was the only way it could hold the swords within as well. Within this timeless holding, a war would wage...  
  
And if she truly was worthy of the legacy that had been bestowed upon her, in the end, the swords would be destroyed, never to claim another sacrifice.   
  
If she could not condemn them, however, they would break free of their cage within her and satisfy their sinister cravings with the blood of all who lived, by her hand.   
  
A childhood promise had been kept, and a young girl became a Prince.   
  
Once again, each and every blade slid into her, though this time no blood was drawn. Twice the rain had come and gone before each nestled in its own spiteful little niche, filling her woundless body with restless dark desire. They clashed within her unconscious frame, a ferocious noise, announcing the completion of their new homecoming.   
  
When their din finally silenced, the sword that had lain faithfully in its masters hand left the loose grip, and swung itself gracefully above the girl Prince's chest. Then, after a respectful pause, it thrust itself downward, melding with her slow beating heart.   
  
One blade to shine amongst the vicious rest.   
  
This was her reward.   
  
And still...she slept. 


	2. Chapter One

  
Damnation  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
_She fell to one knee, shoulders rising and falling heavily with each pained breath. Her head bowed low, she slammed her sword into the soft earth beneath her and clutched its hilt, counting on the tempered steel to hold her steady if her will alone could not. She could feel her hand slipping ever so slightly - the blood slickening her grip. A thin trickle of blood mingled with sweat slid down across her cheek, only to fall in heated drops on the black gauntleted hand below._  
  
_Pink tresses fell over black armored shoulders, which now began to tremble. She could not go on this way for much longer - that she knew, had known for a while now. Yet she could not rest. Every waking moment they cried for her, pleading with tears and humble, desperate tongues. Every waking moment there was a beast trying to ravage, a torch trying to destroy, a princess praying for a miracle. If she lay in rest, even for a moment...the innocent could be consumed by the demons who taunted them._  
  
_No. She would not allow their blood to be spilled. This was her destiny, and she would go on. As long as there was life in her, she would kill the beasts, douse the flames, and comfort the princesses. As long as she stole breath, her sword would not leave her hand, and her eyes would never close._  
  
_Denying a wave of dizziness its desired vertigo, she hauled herself up to her feet, twirling her sword in a heavy arc as she did so. There was a lively stream just a short distance to the west - she would allow her heavy-hoofed steed to rejuvenate himself there_.  
  
_'Come, Dominion,' she spoke softly, taking hold of leather reigns and clicking her tongue. 'Just a little further...and I promise you may rest.'_  
  
_Making not so much as a sound regarding his obvious exhaustion and discontent, the white horse merely followed his master, not understanding a single word she uttered, but feeling her honesty and good intention toward him in silence.  
  
The girl ignored the lancing pain that shot through her swollen ankle every second step she took, along with the heat and weight of her armor. While Dominion rested, she could journey alone to the village, and return the sacred texts that had been stolen from the peaceful monks there. She had heard the cry of a maiden there along the way as well, once the tomes had been returned, she could ease the grief of the princess who wept for her, needing her. Any rest she needed could be found as she embraced the unknown girl; any strength she needed would be restored when the girl would smooth the furrow of her brow with a light kiss.  
  
When the sorrow of that small realm had been vanquished, she would return to her mount and head north. The air thrummed with a tangible static, and if she rode through the night unwavering, she could intercept the dragon that was fast approaching before it reached the castle.  
  
Perhaps, one day, if the cries ever ceased, she would return to her. The one with the deep green eyes...  
_  
  
  
  
  
_...'I kept everything inside, and though I tried  
It all fell apart  
What it meant to me, will eventually  
Be a memory...'  
_  
A few muffled curses resounded through the small room as a sleeping arm fought to regain circulation.  
  
_'I tried so hard, and got so far...but in the end  
It doesn't even matter...'  
_  
A heavy thunk resounds as the aforementioned arm clumsily misses its target, slamming into the corner of the desk instead.  
  
_'I had to fall, and lose it all...'  
_  
More curses, no longer muffled.  
  
_'But in the end, it doesn't even matter...'  
_  
A clock radio sails off of its post, and lands somewhere in between piles of dirty clothes, scattered notebooks, and a week old pastrami sandwich.  
  
Bleary cobalt eyes gazed in lethargic satisfaction as the cord tore out of the power outlet, silencing the offensive object.  
  
Bleary cobalt eyes winced, as feeling suddenly returned to a newly conscious body, re-animating circulation deprived limbs.  
  
Shaking her head, Tenjou Utena waited for the pain to subside, and peeled her cheek off of the textbook it had crashed against only a few hours before. Then, weaving a little with early morning grogginess, she tugged a clean uniform out of her closet and tossed it onto her bunk.  
  
This was not a world for Princes.  
  
  
To see her as she stepped into the small service station she worked part time at, one would never guess the pink haired girl had only slept about three hours and made herself presentable in a mere fifteen minutes. Her navy blue uniform was crisp and immaculate, every crease honed to a razor's edge; her shirt neatly tucked into the waist of her sensible trousers. Even her sleeves, rolled up past her forearms to her elbows, seemed to have a dignity about them. Her small tie was inconspicuously clipped tightly to her shirt by a small bar of silver that lay behind a button.  
  
Her eyes were clear and bright, despite the lack of rest they'd gotten.  
  
Tenjou was a model employee.  
  
Hearing the electronic service alarm that sounded whenever anyone stepped through the station door, there was a scuffle from the garage as a burly man strode into the office, prepared to offer assistance to the waiting customer. He looked at Utena, and slowly a grin crossed his face.  
  
"Right on time," he flipped his wrist and checked his watch, "down to the minute. How do you always manage it, Tenjou?"  
  
She flung out a small salute and smiled sheepishly. "Trade secret, Makoto. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."  
  
He chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, smartass. I'll save you the trouble of staining your hands then. For now though, lose the tie and throw on some coveralls. I gotta run early today, so I need you to finish up with the Mustang in the back." He jerked his thumb towards the garage. "I already flushed the transmission, so that should be good. I need you to do a quick oil change, then replace the serpentine belt. The one that's in there's cracked up pretty bad - I'm surprised it hasn't snapped already."  
  
Utena had already opened her locker, and was tugging the dark gray coveralls on. "What do you expect with those foreign cars? Usually, they're nothing but show and shine. You got the belt out there already? Or am I going to have to look through that godforsaken storage room again?"  
  
"The belt's there on the block." A brief bout of laughter. "I've called in Nabiki to watch the front...she should be here in a few minutes." A mischevious grin that could be heard more than seen. "I mentioned the fifty dollar bonus involved to whoever braved that storeroom and managed to come back out alive. You can bet it'll be finished by the end of the day."  
  
"...But what if she doesn't make it out?"  
  
He wrapped a playful arm around her shoulder as he gestured broadly. "Why, then my good friend Tenjou Utena will become a hero, having risked life and limb and many a papercut to save her from the evil that lays within," ...a pause for dramatic effect, "The Storeroom!"  
  
Growling, she pushed him away and elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah yeah, I'd run right in there like some fucking prince on a white horse."  
  
  
_...getupgetuphavetogetuporthey'llkillher!  
_  
  
"Tenjou? Hey...are you ok Tenjou?"  
  
She shook her head and threw out what she hoped would be a convincing lopsided grin. "Yeah, yeah, there's no problem. So, when should I have the Mustang ready to fly?"  
  
"The owner will be back here around three. You should have plenty of time."  
  
  
_take my hand!  
_  
  
Utena nodded as Makoto pulled his jacket on and turned to leave. "Alright...hey, make sure to leave the key up front or something for me. That way you don't have to come back to lock up."  
  
"Already taken care of. It's in your locker." A small salute that imitated the one Utena had tossed earlier. "Keep everything in one piece while I'm gone...and thanks again."  
  
With that, he was gone. And Utena was left with nothing but the voices in her head, and holes in her memory that it seemed she could never fill.  
  
  
***  
  
  
If she'd bothered to keep track of the exact dates, she'd have known it had been exactly five years and two hundred and seventy days since she'd woken up in the infirmary, a thick bandage wrapped tightly around her chest and a cough that drew blood. She hadn't kept that close of track however, and when one wakes up to see themselves in the pathetic condition she'd had, and then realizes they can't even remember their own name on top of that - the days just start to run into one big blur.  
  
The doctors said she'd been found bleeding to death on the side of the road near that old wreck of an Academy, Ohtori. A statuesque woman with golden rings in her hair who refused to leave her name had brought her in, believing Utena was already dead. She had been rushed into emergency, only for the paramedics to find that the woman had probably been right - no breath or pulse indicated the body had any spark of life left in it to save.  
  
Just as they were about to send the order for an autopsy form, a strange thing happened. The girl took a deep, shaking breath, and a steady beeping could be heard from the EKG machine she was hooked up to. There had been nothing but a flatline...and then there was just...life. A weak, yet fighting heartbeat. A slight fluttering pulse. Unassisted breathing.  
  
The doctors could only stare in awe and amazement as the dead revived before their eyes.  
  
  
After her 'revival', word spread about the rose haired girl in the hospital. Any doctor or nurse that was assigned to treat her could be found wearing a crucifix, or held a holy charm of another sort in their pocket. They feared to touch her. In fact, some hoped she'd never open her eyes again, life or not. What had happened may have appeared to be a beautiful thing, but to most it was regarded as the work of a demon. Benevolent entities never made their presence known, did they? It was so much easier to simply fear and mistrust than to believe a miracle had occurred in front of human eyes.  
  
But small minded fears have to be confronted at some point, and that day came only fourty-eight hours after Utena had been admitted. A doctor had been reading her vital signs and filling out a few blank spaces on her health chart, when she finally opened her eyes and spoke.  
  
'_Where...am I?'_  
  
A startled gasp as a soft, feminine hand brushed against her cheek, shining a small light into her eyes. _'Y..you're awake.'  
_  
A wince of pain and she turned her head to the side, and closed her eyes. _'Please...don't...shine that...hurts.'  
_  
A guilty furrow crossed the lady doctor's brow. She had heard the rumors that surrounded this patient as well, and although she believed herself to be a woman of intelligence, not superstition, she'd still had an unrestrained urge to see the simple humanity in the girl's eyes.  
  
She was very relieved to find it there.  
  
_'Ah,'_ she spoke slowly, _'I apologize. Here, please, turn around and look at me again...I won't cause you any more discomfort.'  
_  
Utena nodded slowly and turned to face the doctor. _'I...'  
_  
The doctor could see what an effort it was for the girl to speak at this point, so she motioned for silence._ 'Please, just try to relax,'_ she said warmly. _'My name is Doctor Hoshii. I know you must be very confused now, so I'm going to tell you what I can...and then I want you to try to rest some more, alright? It's very important for your recovery.'  
_  
True to her word, Dr. Hoshii told Utena all that she could. That she was apparently an orphan, brought in by a woman who'd found her near the Ohtori wreckage. She had been badly injured - stabbed clean through from front to back. By what looked like...oddly enough, a rapier or something similar. Amazingly, no vital organs had been caught in the crossfire. However, she would bear a cruel scar because of it - the wound had been painfully infected when she arrived, which was four days ago. She'd been sleeping in fever since then.  
  
Then, the doctor pulled a small laminated card out of her pocket. She kneeled beside her patient and showed it to her. 'This was the only item you had on you.' It was horribly smudged, and curled around the edges almost as if it had started to...burn...somehow. Despite its mutation, it was easy enough to recognize what it was.  
  
A student ID card.  
  
A student ID card with a barely legible 'Expelled' stamp across it.  
  
_'As you can see, I can't make out the school that issued this out to you - as a matter of fact, the only thing any of us can read off of this is your name. Can you tell me what your name is?'  
  
_The girl's eyes closed, and her brow furrowed in thought. _'My name...?'  
_  
_'Yes, if you could please.'  
_  
_'...'  
  
'Are you alright?'  
  
'I'm sorry...but...I don't know my name.'  
_  
***  
  
She was confirmed amnesic that night, though the extent of her memory loss couldn't be deduced. Perhaps her memory would return after she recovered. Perhaps it would not. One could never tell with the human mind - no matter how many new computers mankind could build, no matter how much study was done and progress was made, there was no one on earth who had been able to properly roadmap it yet.  
  
And memories were such tricky, flighty things...  
  
As Utena focused her mind on remembrance, her body focused on functioning smoothly again. She had been very fortunate with her injury, as the doctor told her, but not fortunate enough to escape some painful nerve damage that had to be worked through with physio-therapy. Three hours a day, six days a week, Dr. Ryu Akara would escort her out of her room, and into what looked like a grownup version of a kindergartener's jungle gym. There, she would play the puppet for the doctor, climbing what he told her to climb, lifting what he wanted her to lift. Forcing herself to stay tall.  
  
No matter how much it hurt, she always had to stand.  
  
When she'd first started the sessions with Dr. Akara, there'd been one instance where she simply could not stay on her feet. She had been working with the medicine ball, and she overextended her arm, miscalculating the force she'd need to toss the ball away. The pain was excruciating, and her effort to stay on her feet had caused her to black out completely. When she awoke later on, and remembered what happened, she felt an unexplained sorrow so deep she was consumed by it for days.  
  
Her body had strengthened enough to match her will with some time, and it never happened again.  
  
Every Sunday, when Dr. Akara had the day off and she was allowed a brief reprieve from her physical therapy, her mentality would stand its trial. Psychologists would eat lunch with her while trying to pick her apart with 'trigger games'...hypnotists would spend hours with her trying to successfully pull her into a regression. Only one of the pendulum swinging M.D.'s had been even remotely successful, and all they managed to pull out of the girl was gibberish about roses and duels and princesses that were brides who smelled like roses.  
  
He never made official note on anything he'd heard, writing her amnesia off as 'too deep rooted' for anything to be done.  
  
With that, along with a clean bill of health and full recovery, Tenjou Utena and all files pertaining to her became property of the government.  
  
She was sent to an orphanage.  
  
***  
  
The food was vile, the beds were hard and it smelled funny. Other than that though, Utena didn't really mind the fact she was in an orphanage. She supposed that was because she couldn't remember a life that was any better. She was told her parents were dead, but she couldn't remember anyways. She was told she had, at some point, been enrolled in some sort of high class private school. But she didn't remember. And even if she'd been told that she'd had a bedroom suited for a princess in a mansion far away before all of this happened; having two drawers and the top half of a bunk at this point really wouldn't bother her.  
  
Nothing that was matters when you can't remember.  
  
The standard purpose of an orphanage was to sell off kids, plain and simple. 'Oh, look at this one, she has a bright smile and perfect teeth. And this one over here - look, he's so smart he's advanced an entire grade early in his studies. Surely he'll provide well for his parents when they're old. And last but not least, take a look at this fine young lady. Graceful and elegant, her manners are sure to please any parent.'  
  
But with Utena...  
  
Utena was the one they made sure the parents DIDN'T see.  
  
Oh sure, they'd tried as much with her as with the other children at first. The broody scowl could be transformed into a sign of 'maturity' and 'deep thought'. The fact she wore boys trousers and a t-shirt could be attributed to the fact that she was 'very physically active', and a healthy body usually reflected on a healthy mind. The book of fairy tales she kept with her was of course an assuring sign to any prospective parent that Utena was a normal teenage girl, with her own world of hopes and daydreams.  
  
But they could never explain why it was Utena would never speak.  
  
With the other orphans, Utena was sociable enough. Sure, she had her quiet times, but it wasn't odd to find her in the center of a heated soccer match with the rowdier of the bunch, laughing and yelling right along with them. Yet, whenever a prospective parent came along, she would act as if she was mute. Which was exactly what the would-be-parents assumed....causing them to look at different options.  
  
It was perfect.  
  
Utena did not want to be adopted. And she would never be able to explain her reasons for this to anyone, for she hadn't even understood them herself. It was just a phrase, that kept pounding throughout her entire being...  
  
'A Prince never burdens others'.  
  
...She didn't know why that gibberish had meaning to her.  
  
Just that it hurt so very badly if she ever tried to ignore it. 

  
  
  
A vicious yanking of her leg pulled her out of her recollections.  
  
"Utena!"  
  
"I--hey!" the pink haired girl's cry of protest was cut short as she found herself flailing under a gush of dirty motor oil, then skidding across the floor until she finally spun into a wall. Her hand reached out and felt around for something she could use to wipe the filthy grit from her eyes. Finding nothing readily available, she settled for the back of her sleeve.  
  
She cautiously opened one eye and looked up to find a pair of narrowed brown eyes looking down at her, postively radiating fury. Nabiki.  
  
"Utena!" the girl repeated, as if she hadn't already gotten her attention. "I've been calling you for the last fifteen minutes! I thought you'd died under that car or something!"  
  
A look of confusion fell across Utena's oil smudged face. "I never heard anything." She stood up, wincing at the pain in her shoulder her collision had caused.  
  
Nabiki's eyes softened a little. "I'm sorry about that," she said quietly, "I just seriously thought something was wrong." Her lips curled up in a grin. "But I should have known better. You're usually all zoned out in your own world."  
  
Utena felt her cheeks grow warm as she picked a small box from an overcrowded filter shelf. "I am not...I...I just focus..."  
  
A raised eyebrow. "Oh yeah? On what?"  
  
A mischevious lopsided grin. "On my work. Something a few other people around here could do well to learn from..."  
  
"Hey!" A look of indignantion followed by a childish stamping of a foot. "I'll have you know I'm going to work very hard today. I've decided it's high time someone cleaned out the storeroom for Makoto..."  
  
Utena tried not to snicker at Nabiki's nobility act. She'd never even stepped foot in the storeroom before. "My apologies, Nabiki," she stated with mock sincerity. "You are truly a saint..." a pause. "One who will be fifty dollars richer than me."  
  
Nabiki's face flushed right to the tips of her ears. "Well...well...," she stammered, "I mean, that's nice...but...I was planning on doing it anyways! Yes! So, you go back to doing your.." she waved her hand impatiently, "...your messy car thing, and I'll go do my job." She started to walk out of the garage, and turned to look over her shoulder. "It's the second door on the left, neh?"  
  
"Yeah." Utena nodded in reply, and layed back down on the mechanic scooter. "That's the one." She grinned to herself as she slid back down under the mustang, deciding to keep her mind out of the past for the rest of the day. She had a feeling staying sharp would be to her benefit today.  
  
A horrified scream resounded throughout the service station as soon as Nabiki opened the storeroom door.  
  
Utena's instincts were usually right.  
  
  
  
"Do you have an eight?"  
  
"No," a sigh. "Go fish."  
  
Utena pulled another card from the worn deck kept in the office for times like this. A King. "Figures." she grumbled.  
  
Nabiki tossed her cards down in irritation. "What time is it?"  
  
Twist of a wrist. "Only eight-thirty. Still another half hour to go." Blue eyes scanned over Nabiki's abandoned hand, and a pink eyebrow quirked. "Should I deal for poker this time, or are we back to war again?"  
  
A groan, and a head falling against the counter. "Ugh. I wanna go home."  
  
The infamous half grin. "Big date or something?" She pulled Nabiki's cards in and began to shuffle. "If you want to head out early, you can go ahead. I'm locking up anyways."  
  
For the first time in the hours since Nabiki emerged from the storeroom, covered head to toe in dust and with cobwebs dangling from her hair and ears, there was a spark of life in her eyes. "As much as I'd like to, there would be guilt." She stood up and made her way over to the soda machine in the corner and slipped in a few coins in exchange for Coke. "Deal me in for war. You always seem to win with everything else." her purchase thunked hard against the metal receiver, and she eventually managed to yank it free. "Do you want anything?"  
  
Utena shook her head and started to deal the deck out between Nabiki and herself. "No thanks. I still have some left." She looked up when Nabiki fell back onto her stool, half of her pop already gone. "You know, you really do look tired." Her brow furrowed. "You should probably go home and get some rest. Didn't you mention having a final or something this week? Better to spend what's left of your energy on that than here playing cards. That way you won't have to stay at this dump much longer."  
  
A dump. As much as she liked the place, she had to admit that's what it was. A small, worn service station tucked into a dilapidated nook of the city. Their main clientel were car thieves who needed cleanup work done before a deal, by people who could easily forget faces and never asked for real names. There was the odd legitimate job as well -- a city that size, breakdowns occasionally happened right on the street in front of them. The Mustang had been one of those occurences -- Makoto probably wouldn't have left it in her hands otherwise.  
  
Makoto.  
  
Despite the kind of people he was inadvertently helping, he wasn't a bad man. Utena had known that, even before he told her about how sick his little girl was, and how he needed the money to keep paying for her chemotherapy. Even if it came from thieves with links to the Yakuza. Even if it came from the Yakuza itself. Anyone who would take an orphan under their wing in an apprenticeship, not even caring about the invisible gender boundaries society still places on jobs like the one she held, not even caring about the fact she'd had no real previous experience in the field, could not be a bad person.  
  
No, the man Utena thought was the closest thing she'd ever have to a father...he was good.  
  
  
  
Utena could never remember having a father. When she'd walked into the service station two years ago, she hadn't been coming in to find one. She'd come in looking for a way to step out of the orphanage and into the real world -- she'd come looking for a job.  
  
Dressed in a sleek black and white tracksuit she'd picked up with a bit of the trust fund she'd been given access to the day she turned eighteen, Utena had done her best to radiate cool and confidence. She knew this was the kind of place she had to dress just right for -- she couldn't come in looking like a class act, or they'd laugh her out before she'd even had a chance to say her piece. She couldn't come in looking her worst either; not only would it make her look as if she didn't care whether she was working or not, it would have also been disrespectful.  
  
After careful consideration, she felt the track suit -- open jacket with spotless white t-shirt underneath -- would be her best bet.  
  
Chances are, it had been. True, she did attract a stare or two from a few of the temporary mechanics working in the garage, but the 'receptionist' (it was hard to imagine anyone working the desk in a hole like this as someone professional enough to bear that title -- a fact that irked Nabiki to no end once Utena mentioned it after she'd taken the position) seemed to approve, even giving her an encouraging nod as she told Utena to wait in the back, the manager would be with her in a few moments.  
  
It was only about a half minute, really, before before she met Makoto Hyoshi for the very first time.  
  
She'd had a good feeling about him right away. When he sat down in front of her, there was no prejudice or disbelief in his eyes as he gave her a casual once over. Only simple curiosity. He was quiet for a moment, and then began to ask her about herself. The usual things -- her name, age, bit of background information, had she ever had any problems with the law, etc. She answered each politely, and to the best of her ability, having expected all of this.  
  
She hadn't expected what he asked next though.  
  
_'Why?'_ he asked, simply. Not 'why should I hire a girl?' or 'why are you even trying for this?' ...just the one word. _Why_.  
  
She knew the only answer she could give then was an honest one, as sad as it may sound to him. She hadn't chosen this job because it looked more promising than any of the other listings in the paper, or because she desperately wanted to leave the orphanage at any cost now that she'd come of age. No, her entire reason for all of this had been a few inked words.  
  
_'The paper...your ad in the paper,'_ she spoke quietly, _'..it said you needed help.'_  
  
He seemed to understand what even she herself did not. And he smiled.  
  
  
  
"Well what about you?" Nabiki asked bluntly. "I mean, you seem to be pretty comfortable here, but you're in college too. Don't you have any finals coming up to study for?"  
  
Utena grinned lopsidedly at her. "I'm majoring in philosophy," she said simply. "I'm not worried."  
  
Nabiki's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'not worried'? Its finals! No matter what you're taking, its like some kind of law that you_ have _to be stressed out about it! Don't you want to pass?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. You see, interesting thing about Philosophy. You sit around thinking deep, meaningful thoughts about being unemployed."  
  
"Your point being?!"  
  
"Would you want to excell at something like that?"  
  
"......"  
  
"I rest my case." Utena waved her hand and pushed the cards off to the side. "Just take off early...I can handle it from here."  
  
Nabiki looked about to protest for a few moments, but then exhaustion won out. "Alright, thanks Utena. But you know, I already punched in full time on my clock sheet..."  
  
"I hear nothing. I know nothing...I alter nothing."  
  
Nabiki gave her a toothy grin as she pulled on her jacket and walked out the door. "You know Utena, you really are a Prince."  
  
"......"  
_  
I'm sorry, but you can't become my prince...  
_  
--and with that, the door closed and she was gone.  
  
_....because you're a girl.  
_  
It was hard to breathe.  
  
_painpainpainnewprincestabyouhateyoufailurepainpainpain--_  
  
She fell to her knees, and clamped her hands beside her head. "SHUT UP!"  
  
_...kashira, kashira..._  
  
She coughed painfully, a splatter of blood tinting her lip.  
  
_--abandoneduspainpainstabyouforever--_  
  
A nightmarish cold sweat broke over her body. Mussed pink bangs clung to her forehead and brow. A broken whisper barely spoken. "...leave me."  
  
There was nothing.  
  
She was just a woman kneeling to catch her breath. Maybe she was sick. It felt like a fever.  
  
There was nothing.  
  
Deciding that staying the extra few minutes just in case didn't matter anymore, Utena pulled herself to her feet and shakily put her coveralls back into her locker, and took out the key.  
  
She locked up and left.  


  



	3. Chapter Two

Damnation  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
  
There was a tangible thrum of static in the air. The smell of cigarette smoke and burning rubber overwhelmed the mind and the senses; dirtying them both. The horizon sparkled with illuminated chemical particles, which both dazzled the eye and slowly killed any who would accidentally breathe them in. Broken glass glittered over uneven pavement; a few shards attached to the diseased remnants of tainted needles.  
  
Cheap neon lights flickered below massive billboards, attracting pale moths to flitter about the product they advertised. Buy a Honda. Drink Coke. Use Viagra.  
  
Utena had noticed every one of these faded pleas for consumer dollars hundreds of times before, every single day she left her dormitory for work. They were a meaningless constant - one of those things you never seem to notice until one day it's not there anymore. And then you drive yourself half mad trying to figure out what's missing...  
  
They were just a splotch of color tossed onto the grimy, gray canvas of the city. But in her haze, Utena found a small comfort in them.  
  
The pain had subsided, and the only voice she could hear now belonged not to a shadow in her head, but a half drunken prostitute.  
  
"You know I don't mind playing both sides of the field..." A warm finger trailed over her cheek, smudging a few drops of oil she'd forgotten to wipe away in her panic to leave the shop.  
  
Swallowing hard and shaking her head, Utena looked away from the Coca-Cola polar bears and did her best to deal with the matter at hand.  
  
"I...I'm sorry, you must have the wrong idea about me. I'm not interested..." The scent of cheap perfume almost threw her into a coughing fit, and the bruised, fuzzy feeling of a fever began to throb between her temples. She wanted nothing more than to drag herself the rest of the way home, and fall into the comfort of her bed.  
  
The whore twirled a lock of Utena's hair around her finger, oblivious to her discomfort, and began to whisper temptations into her ear. Beginning to feel strangely violated, Utena tensed up, prepared to state her disinterest once again in no uncertain terms. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked down at the painted woman who'd sidled up to her. "Like I said before, I'm not-''  
  
The rest of her sentence trailed off as she took a closer look at the woman before her. Her eyes softened and she felt a piece of her heart tear. A single curled lock of chocolate swirled hair fell over her forehead, and soft wisps framed her cheeks. Though her face was an unreadable mask of street and sin, her dark eyes betrayed her. They were haunted and afraid; wavering just enough to spell out a denied addiction.  
  
They also betrayed her youth.  
  
Utena's hands shook as she placed them on the girl's shoulders. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a ruthless, icy fist. "I'm sorry," she stammered, "I...I...you don't have to do this."  
  
The girl stiffened under her trembling touch. Narrowing her eyes, she pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "If you're not interested," she murmured coldly, "then keep your hands off. None of this comes free."  
  
Shocked, Utena could only blink before shoving her hands into her pockets. "Please, no," she said, not wanting to scare the girl off or give her the wrong idea. "I...I didn't mean it like..." she fumbled over words, fighting the sudden urge to break down.  
  
"Didn't mean it like what?" the girl stepped up to her, hands clenched into fists. "Don't you dare try to preach to me, or tell me what to do. You don't know anything!"  
  
"I wasn't trying-"  
  
"You don't have to do this" a high pitched mocking of Utena's stuttered declaration just seconds earlier. "Let me guess...you think you're doing me some big fucking favor, telling me there's some other life I can just wake up and start living tomorrow simply because you told me I didn't have to seduce you-''  
  
Grim determination settled across once softened features. "No. I'm telling you that you don't have to do any of this because you don't. Not with me, not with anyone."  
  
The girl was taken aback for a moment. Her hands fell meekly to her sides, and her head fell low. She looked so familiar...  
  
"You really don't understand anything," she whispered softly. "It's too late for that kind of thing. There's no way I could...I'm alone, and..." she tapered off, running her hands over her arms. There was a chill in the air that only the two under the streetlight could feel.  
  
"No...no, it's not too late for anything. You don't have to be alone...I can help. I can..." _I can do anything for you,_ she'd wanted to say. _I don't know who you are, but I'm falling apart, seeing you like this. Something in me loves something in you...please, make me remember...  
_  
She shrugged her jacket off, and slowly made her way toward the girl. Brow furrowing with concern, she draped it over her shoulders, hoping that maybe she'd gotten through to her. Hoping her heart would stop bleeding.  
  
Dark eyes looked up at her, clouded enough to hide any intention from being read. "Are you saying you're going to save me?" the girl whispered in a voice rough with emotion. She pressed up against her would-be savior, running her hands up along her arms...shoulders. "Are you going to be my knight in shining armor?"  
  
"I want to help you...I..." Utena's reply was cut short as the girl stood on her tip-toes, and brushed her lips against her own.  
  
"Are you going to be my Prince?"  
  
"I can..."  
  
One sharp movement and a flash of intense pain, accompanied by a sickening crack.  
  
Utena stood in stunned silence, suddenly alone under the flickering streetlight. Slowly her hand moved to her bleeding cheek.  
  
A sneer from the girl in the shadows. "There is no such thing as a Prince. Not now - not ever." And with a sharp turn on her heel, she strode away, pulling Utena's jacket tighter around herself.  
  
Seconds ticked into minutes as she watched the female figure get swallowed up by the street. A small trickle of blood seeped between her fingertips, staining a trail. The fist that had clenched her heart from the moment she saw that girl's eyes crushed it completely now, leaving nothing but a broken, pathetic mass within her chest.  
  
Weak neon lights blurred into one another, and the world melted into one big collage of color and sickness before her. Starting to feel the dam within herself break, she stumbled into an alley and threw herself against a rough brick wall behind a garbage bin. She clumsily brushed a tear out of one eye, and shook the other away. Her body began to wrack with deep, heavy sobs, and she let herself succumb to the misery that wanted so badly to overtake her.  
  
Misery over faces not remembered, and feelings that could never be forgotten.  
  
Misery over fairy tale princesses that never existed, and princes that never could have saved them if they had.  
  
_I'm sorry,_ was the only thought her soul had left. _I'm so very sorry... _  
  
  
  
There it was. The shattering.  
  
After so long, it could finally heed the call of a master again.  
  
Almost soundlessly, a rose signet key turned in its ignition, sparking life into a long cold engine. Small explosions thrust valves into motion beneath the hood, and a slow, steady purr broke a half decade of silence.  
  
She was ready.  
  
Its patience had paid off.  
  
Twin beams broke through the darkness, blazing the road ahead. It had a long journey ahead of it...but it would find her. It could sense her, now.  
  
There was a barely audible clicking as a well oiled gearshift slid into position. Tiny pebbles shot out from beneath its wheels as they first spun, propelling it into motion.  
  
It wouldn't be long now.  
  
And so it was that the cherry red car that had driven as far as the end of the world would make its way to a new home tonight.  
  
It would fly again.  
  
  
  
_If your soul hasn't truly given up...you can hear it._  
  
Droplets of midnight dew spotted her entire body, giving the already chilly evening air an extra bite. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was or how she'd gotten there. The sting on her cheek was quick to remind her, however. The pain lancing through her stupor, Utena sat up and wiped the grit from her eyes with the back of her hand, noticing only that the sky was no lighter than it had been when she'd first fallen here.  
  
She couldn't have been asleep for long.  
  
_If your soul hasn't truly given up...it will serve you._  
  
The girl.  
  
The memory of the girl stabbed through the numb cold that had penetrated her skin, rejuvenating her sadistically.  
  
The girl.  
  
Why had she felt so drawn to her? She'd never seen her before. And although she was attractive, she certainly wasn't a raving beauty. Why had she felt as if she could finally bridge that gap of nonexistent memory if only she could hold her?  
  
_If your soul hasn't truly given up, you can have it all back... _  
  
Tired of questions that were better left unanswered, Utena pulled herself to her feet and took a few slow steps towards home. It wasn't far, only a few blocks really. Surely everything would make sense again after she'd gotten a good night's rest. Dreams were odd things, but they were usually very good at making you forget.  
  
"Dammit", Utena shook her head and did every sailor an honor with a string of curses. "My keys...my wallet..." she saw a flash of the girl walking away again, wrapping her jacket tightly around her shoulders. Completely ignorant of the contents that lay inside the inner pocket. She slapped her forehead and cursed her stupidity. "What was I thinking?!"  
  
_And a soul such as yours...it could never truly give up, now could it?_  
  
That was when she heard it. Her hand dropped to her side, and her brow furrowed...  
  
_There you are, Chosen of the Rose._  
  
She had heard it before. No doubt about it. There was something completely unmistakable about that sound...  
  
_But things are a little different this time, Chosen. You won't simply be a passenger spared a cruise, will you now?_  
  
Images bombarded her, flashing through her memory as if trying to stir a sleeping dragon. A woman in a red dress with floating cuffs. A power...a power laying within her breast. A blade in her hand, and the woman draped erotically over her arm.  
  
The car skid into a clean halt in front of the alley. Sleek and red. Top down...  
  
A carnival. Bright flashing lights swirling and dipping. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy. Shrieks of terror, followed by joyous whoops. A large, masculine hand holding her own. The silk of his sleeve tickling her wrist.  
  
She moved toward it, entranced. This car...  
  
A spark between clashing blades. A once noble face contorted into a taut mask of unrestrained fury. A desire to destroy him completely pumping through her veins. A beautiful woman in a red rag of a dress, sprawled across a stairway, eyes hooded by locks of violet.  
  
This car was now...  
  
The momentary warmth of a kiss pressed against her shoulder. An offensive stance. The grim determination that always came when knowing how high the stakes really were. Then...marble rushing up to greet as she fell to her knees, watching her own blood seep out of her chest, and spill onto the virgin white of the floor...  
  
This car was now hers.  
  
A lopsided smile at finally pulling away the stone.  
  
Part of a legacy left to her when that hand reached for her, and the world crumbled away.  
  
The car began to push open its polished door. Inviting her. Flashes of things forgotten sunk back into the dark recesses of her mind. Some things are better left unremembered. Some things don't matter anymore. She stopped in front of the car, her front teeth biting into her bottom lip. No, this wasn't right. She pressed her palm and closed it.  
  
The car revved a little, almost as if it was concerned.  
  
A deep breath and a half grin tugging at her lips. "I think...," the same hand that closed the door now gripping it, as an athletic body vaulted over it and landed in a passenger seat that was already formed to her every curve. "...that's the way its done, isn't it?"  
  
A gear sliding into place. An affirmation.  
  
"...thought so," Utena mumbled, letting her head fall back against the leather seat. "I have to go home now. Do you know the way?"  
  
The car swerved into a smooth U, and turned around. Of course it knew the way.  
  
"Alright then." Lethargic hands brushed against a few well formed metal objects as they found their place on the steering wheel. A new set of keys, looped on a white rose ring.  
  
"Lets go."  
  
  
  
The purr of an engine long faded, the warmth of a body long sucked out of the concrete. An alley that was the world's only witness came to life suddenly, with two shadows playing against it.  
  
"Wonder, wonder, do you know what I wonder?"  
  
A silhouette sits with her legs crossed, seeming to float in midair. Her hands are clasped in prayer, and turban two sizes too big slides over her head. "Have you heard the news? Have you seen what I've found?"  
  
Two fingers encircle the second silhouette's ear as she leans closer, an astonished gasp escaping her lips. "News? What news? Tell me, tell me all about things that are new!"  
  
"Ah," a shadowed finger is held up in a gesture of quiet. "But this isn't new at all! It's very old! Do you see? I found a magic carpet!"  
  
"Oh! I see it now! But...where did you find it? May I have one too?"  
  
"No," a sad sigh, "there is only one, and it is my very own. It was in my attic, behind the bookshelf. I found it by accident when I tripped over a loose board!"  
  
"So this carpet, it has been yours since the very beginning? And there are no more?"  
  
"Yes, it was always mine. Right under my nose! I was just never looking for it! And no, there are no more, I'm afraid. It's one of a kind."  
  
"Well if there are no more, maybe, could you share it?" Shadowed feet spinning in a little, hopeful dance. "For surely it would be alright for me to try!"  
  
"No, no I'm sorry, but I cannot share it. It's too dangerous, you see." Dark, slender fingers hold up a loose piece of fringe on the carpet. "It is holding me now, but I'm very sure it will unravel soon. How horrible I would feel if it fell apart while you were on it!"  
  
Black hands covering a horrified gasp slipping out of a shadow mouth. "It is dangerous then! Not a good magic carpet at all! Please, you must get off of it before it tears!"  
  
"But I can't. If I get off, someone else will find it. And then they could get hurt."  
  
"So you will stay on it until it breaks, to make sure no one else will ride it? But what about _you_? What if _you_ get hurt?"  
  
"Well, I just try not to think about that."  
  
The unseen animation fades from the stone walls, leaving only a tinny echo in its passing.  
  
"Wonder, wonder, do you know what I wonder??"  
  
  
  
Home wasn't a place it could take her yet. As much as it wanted to return to the place it knew so well; travel the road that led to everyone's very own eternity, it knew she would go back yet. In fact, it may be a long while before it could make her see reason. Before _they_ could convince her it was the best thing to do. She had the power in her - it had felt it within _him_ many times before. When he would lay soft young girls down in the back seat...when he would show faltering duelists whatever they needed to see...to give them a shred of hope. When he himself would duel the victor at the end of it all, disarming them within seconds and claiming their self righteous nobility.  
  
There was no doubt about it. She too, could run the game. Her hands were strong enough to hold revolution once again.  
  
But now...she needed rest. It hugged the corner and curved into the vacant parking lot, ignoring her sluggish tugs on the wheel. Next time, it would let her stay in control.  
  
For now, let her believe all it wanted was to drive her home.  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Three

Damnation  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
  
_Cool droplets trickled down her temples, slipping onto her cheeks. Tears? No...they lacked the warmth of emotion tears possessed. Then what was...?  
  
Oh yes. Water.  
  
A soft, soothing weight pressed against her forehead as well. Her brow furrowed beneath it, causing a small shift in the fabric. A cloth. So, she was alive then. That must be so...for death couldn't possibly hurt this much.  
  
"Coming around finally, dear Prince?"  
  
She blinked, wincing a little as her eyes adjusted to the light. The voice was rich and warm, and oh so very familiar. Who was it again? There had been so many places...so many faces. But this one...she had wanted this one again, hadn't she? Had longed for it, at one point?  
  
The overpowering light began to recede, and she scanned her surroundings. Beautifully finished oak paneling lined the walls, and thick, plush velvet curtains of royal purple hung casually. Finely crafted furniture adorned the room, each and every piece done in a romantically gothic style only an extremely skilled artisan could accomplish. She'd never seen the likes of it anywhere. Scented candles flickered at her bedside, and one hung from the jaw of a gargoyle, who resided on top of a cathedral-style dresser. A fire burned healthily in a tarnished silver hearth a few paces in front of her, and a small kettle hummed atop the heat. The Prince was very sure that this was not the sole source of the incredible warmth of the room.  
  
There was a wealth about this place, of that there was no doubt. But more importantly, there was a power about it as well.  
  
The figure who'd spoken was given form as a rustle of curtain revealed her. She was an exotic beauty, both in figure and feature. Long waves of purple cascaded down across her shoulders and back, and fell over emerald green eyes. Her utterly flawless dark skin was covered only by a short red tunic and band of gold around one arm, and three golden hoops around one ankle, leaving very little to the imagination. Years had passed, more than the Prince had even realized, for the girl had matured in stature as much as body - but she recognized her instantly.  
  
"W...what are you doing here?" the Prince asked, her voice laced with a quiet sort of awe.  
  
The exotic woman smiled softly then, and sat at the edge of the bed the Prince lay in, gently taking the cloth from her forehead and wringing it out into a small basin. "I live here, of course," she said, dipping the cloth into cooler water. "This is my home," she looked over her shoulder and her voice took on an almost dream-like quality, "and you're in my bed."  
  
Something about the way the woman spoke those words to the Prince caused her cheeks to burn a slight crimson. "I...I'm sorry," the words stumbled out after a moment. "I mean no disrespect. I remember you..." she whispered softly. "I had always wanted to come back and see you..."  
  
The dark girl's eyes softened. "I know you tried," she gently brushed pink bangs aside and dabbed at a cut on the Prince's brow. "Sometimes I'd see you, pulling the reigns and veering your horse off of its path to turn back to me."  
  
"How did you know that?" There was a power to this place...had she been pulled into a den of the magicks? Was the captivating woman whose memory she'd kept with her throughout all her travels, through every battle...did she practice a dark art?  
  
A soft sigh. "I know many things. At this time, knowledge is the burden I must bear."  
  
Slowly, the Prince sat up. "I...I don't want you to be alone," she placed a strong hand on the smaller woman's shoulder, feeling recognition flow through her at last. "Himemiya."  
  
Himemiya smiled then, but it was a sad sort of smile. "Is it you who is speaking now, or the Prince inside you? Do you even know how to tell the difference between the two?"  
  
The Prince looked stunned for a moment. "I...suppose I don't know," she said finally. "Is there a difference between the two? I am the Prince."  
  
"Yes. But once, only a few years ago, you were also Tenjou Utena. Is it that she...doesn't exist within you anymore? Has she been swallowed up by the Prince as well?"  
  
"No, I believe she is still there...waiting. She has her own battles to fight."  
  
There was silence between the two. Then, Himemiya Anthy rose to her feet. "Do you remember what happened?" her tone spoke of important matters - of business.  
  
"No." The Prince's head fell back onto the pillow. "The last I remember was hearing a horrible cry. When it hit my ears, I nearly fell off of my horse, it was so strong. I headed towards it, and then..."  
  
"And then...?"  
  
The Prince's eyes widened in realization. "The dragon!" Ignoring the pain that had kept her chained to the bed, she threw herself off of the mattress. "I have to go, now!"  
  
Himemiya raised an eyebrow. "Just like that, hmm?"  
  
The Prince looked down at herself, understanding for the first time that she had been very naked under those warm blankets. "H...Himemiya!" she stammered, a blush rising to the tips of her ears as she violently pulled a sheet around herself.  
  
Anthy laughed quietly. It was a beautiful sound really, and, under different circumstances the Prince would have cherished hearing it. "I see now, why you have so much trouble defining where the Prince ends and Utena begins. Even before...everything...you shared so many traits." She motioned with her hand. "Lay back down - you're in no position to go anywhere quite yet."  
  
As if to affirm Himemiya's declaration, a few spots of red dotted the pristine sheet the Prince was now wearing. In her haste, she had torn stitches she hadn't even realized existed across her torso. Modesty temporarily forgotten, the Prince's brow hardened in determination. "Where did you put my clothing and armor? And where is my sword?"  
  
Anthy stepped in toward the Prince, refusing to be intimidated. "I said you are not going anywhere yet. Now," she spoke each word harshly, as if disobedience would result in dire consequences, "lay...back...down!"  
  
The Prince scowled and sat at the edge of the bed, looking far more like a disgruntled child than a noble at that moment. "I have to go. I know I did not kill that beast...if I do not rectify that error quickly, he will return and ravage all that lays in his path."  
  
"The dragon sleeps," Himemiya stood before the Prince, and pushed her back down onto the bed. "and if you go to fight him now, you will fall."  
  
The Prince snorted. "Have you forgotten? I am immortal now - I cannot die. Sometimes...I wish I could." Her voice softened. "But I can't...so what does it matter if my wounds heal? I can bleed enough for ten men and my heart will still beat. At least if I am out there...doing something for the people - perhaps, in time, when I have repaired enough of this land, the cries will stop. They will no longer plead for me to save them."  
  
"There are far worse fates than death, my Prince. And giving that dragon - that beast, a chance to taint your mind and soul as he wants to...is certainly one of them." Himemiya looked contemplative. "Do you hear that?"  
  
The Prince sighed. "...I hear nothing."  
  
"Mmm. Exactly."  
  
Cobalt eyes gazed to emerald green ones in disbelief. "So...it has...ended, then?"  
  
Himemiya spoke on as if she'd never heard the question. "The people believe their Prince is dead right now...when you fought, the dragon wounded you badly." She brushed her fingertips over the blood that stained the Prince's sheet. "Do you remember that now?"  
  
The Prince looked down, fragments of memory piecing back together in her mind. "I...yes I do. I was about to run him through, when one of his claws stuck in me. He...tore through me to get it free again, I think."  
  
"And that's when you fell. The dragon, and all the people who bore witness to your battle, left you for dead. Hence, the beast slumbers, believing once it has healed it will be able to rule over this world again at leisure, without you to stand in his way."  
  
A pained whisper. "That's why the cries have stopped. They all believe I am dead..."  
  
"They all mourn now, in silence for their Prince. But you know this won't last long. Once the world has grieved, its sadness will transform once again into anger and hate."  
  
"And the swords?"  
  
"They will revive within you once more, demanding retribution. That is why this time, you must rest and recover." The exotic girl made her way over to the hearth, and took the whistling kettle away from the flames. Gracefully, she poured the hot water into a ceramic white cup sprinkled with herbs, and stirred it. She brought the tea back to the Prince. "Drink this, and then try to sleep."  
  
The Prince took the cup warily, still not convinced that this was the best thing she could do. "Are you sure about this, Himemiya? I...feel a little better now. I could fight. And maybe if the people see I am alive now, before the grief becomes too much -''  
  
"I wish it could be so, Prince. But this isn't just about you. You yourself said that Tenjou Utena still had battles of her own to fight. The dragon must be slain by not only your hand, but hers as well."  
  
The Prince looked up at Himemiya, studying her features as if she were looking for something. An answer. "But my hand...is it not hers too?" She lifted her hand and looked up at it, as if seeing it for the first time. "Even though I can't differentiate between us - isn't she still here with me?"  
  
Himemiya took the Prince's hand, and softly kissed her palm. "Now is not the time to think about these things. Just sleep...and I promise, your answers will come as you need them."  
  
"Just the same...I wish, I understood better." The Prince's eyes began to drift shut, as a warmth blossomed from her chest and trickled into her limbs. Of course Himemiya would have put something in the tea. "You speak as if there's some sort of line between Utena and me that I can't see...and I've always thought we were the same. But there must be something more to all of this, because you miss her - that much I can see. Whichever part of her I'm missing, you want back..."  
  
Himemiya just let the Prince whisper her confusions until her breathing deepened, and her voice trailed off into sleep. Brushing her fingertips over the Prince's jawline, she leaned in and lightly pressed her lips against hers. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You musn't think that I don't love you, because I do. But you, dear Prince - you belong to the world. And Tenjou Utena...she has always been mine."  
_  
  
  
When Utena awoke, the first thing she felt was a throbbing on her cheek, and a grin tug at her lips. The more painful of the two reminded her of what had happened with the girl on her way home the night before; and the happier of the two - caused by nothing more than the site of a neatly arranged bookshelf - distracted her before she could remember everything.  
  
The sun was bright that day, and its rays cut through the glass of Utena's dorm room window to illuminate the gold stamped spines of the elaborate collection of fairy tales she possessed. All beautiful hardbound limited edition copies, the collection that was one of the few things that brought her genuine happiness was probably worth a small fortune. But there was no amount of money that would persuade her to part with any of them.  
  
1001 Arabian Nights. Grimm's Fairy Tales. The Complete Works of Hans Christian Anderson. King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Tolkien's tales of rings and hobbits. Aesop's Fables. Tales from every corner of the globe; lives born of minds from every walk of life. Utena loved them all.  
  
Or, more to be more precise, she loved the Princesses in them all.  
  
It had all started not long after she'd been sent to the orphanage. She'd been unpacking when she found a dusty book tucked away in her bottom drawer, with nothing but a small note inside the jacket that simply said '_I found bliss in ignorance_'. She'd never quite understood what whoever had written those five words was trying to say, yet found herself drawn to the book regardless. Before she knew it, she'd fallen in love with Lady Guinevere, and, as she began to read more, the Princess Aurora captured her heart as well.  
  
When she read, she lived another life. She understood the hero's motivation, and cringed whenever he failed his lady love. How could he let her down? Didn't he understand how much she needed him? How she was depending on him? At times like those, she wished she could have a chance to re-write those pages herself.  
  
A knocking on her door broke her out of her musings.  
  
Grumbling, Utena got out of bed and did her best to smooth her wrinkled uniform. She hadn't bothered to change when she'd finally gotten home, and as the rapping got more insistent, she knew she wouldn't have time to do so now. "Yeah yeah!" she yelled, sounding a little more agitated than she'd meant to. "I'm coming!"  
  
She opened the door to reveal a nearly petrified blue haired boy on the other side. "S...sorry if I woke you up Tenjou-kun," the boy Utena recognized immediately as little Miki nearly stammerd. "I just wanted to let you know that it looks as if someone's parked their car in your space on the lot. I was hoping, maybe, you'd come down with me and see if you can recognize whose it is, so I can take care of the matter."  
  
Utena grinned and scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry Miki, I didn't mean to come off as a grouch. I just didn't sleep very well last night." She noticed that Miki was trying not to be obvious about staring at her cheek. He was failing miserably, but at least he was polite enough not to ask about it. "Here," she slipped on her sneakers, "I'll go down with you now."  
  
Miki nodded and gave one of his trademark shy smiles. "Thank-you, Tenjou." Utena locked her door and they made their way down the stairs and toward the student parking lot. "Usually I'd write it off as a drunk student just parking in the wrong space, coming home from a weekend bender, you know? That happens a lot, and I know since you don't even have a car you usually don't mind when it does. But this car, I haven't ever seen any like it. It must have cost a fortune, and I really don't think it belongs to anyone who attends _this_ school. I mean, look at that!" Miki pointed towards a small group of girls who'd crowded at Utena's parking space.  
  
Utena nodded slowly in answer as they neared the car, a piece of it being flashed to her every so often between the moving bodies of the audience it'd gathered. Red. Chrome. Leather. Her brow furrowed as she remembered what happened after the girl had left her the night before. She had been so dazed, surely it couldn't have been real.  
  
But there it was, right in front of her. That car. _The _car.  
  
The crowd parted as Utena sidled up to it, running her hand over the frame in disbelief.  
  
_Last night, you made sense to me...last night, you made me remember things..._  
  
She felt a jolt run through her arm.  
  
_I wanted to forget him. I hate him. And you - you were his. A part of him..._  
  
"Neh, Utena, do you know whose car this is by any chance?" Miki.  
  
_He made me a victim. He tried to make me the opposite of everything I wanted to be..._  
  
"I'm sorry Miki, I...don't know why I forgot. This..." she pulled a key out of her pocket, "this is my car."  
  
_I did destroy him in the end though, didn't I? He fucked with me, and in the end, it was me who undid him..._  
  
There were a few startled gasps as Utena lept over the driver's side door and into the seat, slipping the key into the ignition in one smooth motion.  
  
_Maybe that's why you're mine now. Perhaps no one else could control you_.  
  
The engine revved just ever so slightly.  
  
Miki stepped away, looking confused. "Well, I guess," he motioned to the purring engine, "that it really is yours. Umm...thanks, Tenjou-kun..." blinking as if in disbelief, he turned and walked away, leaving the crowd to move in and look upon Utena in complete female adoration.  
  
Utena's eyes darkened a little as she gazed over the crowd.  
  
_Yes. That is what you do_.  
  
No need to question a voice in your head that isn't your own.  
  
One girl, a pretty blonde with violet shaded eyes caught her attention.  
  
_Her. She's the one you want_.  
  
She grinned a charming lopsided grin at the girl, and motioned for her to come over. "Would you like to go for a ride?" she asked.  
  
_So easy, isn't it? You're a natural..._  
  
The girl's eyes widened in amazement and she nodded. "Yes! If...you wouldn't mind, that is." She blushed a little under Utena's gaze.  
  
Utena leaned over and opened the passenger door for the girl. "Not at all...jump in."  
  
The girl's eyes grew hazy as she did as she was told, closing the door behind her while telling the rest of her friends to wait for her, she'd be back later.  
  
Utena just laughed at this and turned around to face the rest of the girls. "I'm sorry ladies, as much as I'd love to give you all a ride-" she shifted gears and started to pull out of the lot.  
  
_Accept it now. Say it. _  
  
"A date is for two people alone."  
  
_And now we cruise along the sunset strip..._  
  
  
  



End file.
